


Drinking leads to everything

by hannibalnuxvoxmica



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: And Will could drink him under the table, Drunken Kissing, DrunkenKissesChallenge, Drunkenness, Hannibal can't hold his booze, M/M, Obligatory cabin living, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 13:53:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7270942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibalnuxvoxmica/pseuds/hannibalnuxvoxmica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He stares for a moment longer as Will looks in the direction of his bedroom, and his chest clenches as he breathes.</p><p>He is beautiful.</p><p>He is so painfully beautiful.</p><p>And when Will presses his lips to his, sighing warm against his skin, he could have fell from the shock of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drinking leads to everything

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a follow-up that you can find [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7288966) if you'd like to read that as well!
> 
> Enjoy!

Hannibal is aware of how much he can drink before intoxication starts taking over. He knows exactly where the line in the sand is. He is aware that his tolerance levels, while modest, are not in competition to Will’s, who has spent his life drinking hard alcohol while Hannibal devoted his to wines.

He knows. And yet that doesn’t stop him.

Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to disengage from this, when Will, for the first time in quite a while since their escape, is relaxing amiably. Maybe it’s because he enjoys the way it tastes, but enjoys more watching Will enjoy it, savor it. Admiring the contemplative expression he dawns as he tastes it, and reveling as he picks apart the flavors, the tones and aromas. Whiskey, or any kind of alcohol for that matter, did Will no favors when they were still in recovery. What with it burning the inside of his cheek much more than he thought fair any time he drank it. But with that in their past, as well as many other things, Hannibal thought it would be a fitting gift.

“This is far nicer than anything I used to drink.” Will remarked to him, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “You still haven’t explained to me how you got your hands on this.”

“It wasn’t difficult. But it has already proven worth it.” Hannibal’s face is warm. When he smiles he smiles slightly wider than he intended to. And although he’s aware that he’s staring, he is finding it difficult to do anything but.

Will leans forward from the sofa, and grabs the bottle from the coffee table.

“Forty years old.” He says, admiring the label. “Fuck me.”

Hannibal grins. It is late, and getting later. Just outside, winter is currently waging, and undoubtedly by morning they will have amassed yet another foot of snow. The doors and windows will be frozen shut, and will need to be pried open when the sun comes out. But inside it is warm, and Hannibal feels as though he could melt into the chair he’s sitting in. If he hasn’t already.

Will places the bottle back, and sighs tiredly. “I think I’ve had enough. I’d like it to last, but based on how it tastes I’m not sure if I can promise anything.”

Hannibal takes the cue, and rises. Thankfully, he doesn’t stumble. And even better, he finds himself capable of walking, as he gathers their glasses and brings them to sink. Will follows behind, his pace too both slow and thoughtful, and leans against the counter while Hannibal cleans up.

“Lucy won’t be happy to find she has more snow to battle with.” Will says.

Hannibal dries his hands and turns around. Will is gazing over his right shoulder at their rescue dog, who Hannibal cannot claim responsibility for finding, or to know exactly where she came from. Will brought her home one day and said he had found her while walking the woods, and after taking one look, he needed no further explanation. A stray, no doubt. One who had lost her way or was cruelly abandoned, and who had already skipped more than a few meals. Hannibal had watched her progress in awe, and had seen for the first time up close Will’s gift with dogs. How he nursed her back to health with patience and diligence, and not a month later was she fattened and thriving, learning to play fetch and being taught what the rules of the house are, although few they are.

“She will most likely try and argue with it, and need quite a bit of coaxing before she’ll step an inch outside.” Hannibal reminds him.

“I don’t think she understands that barking at the snow won’t have an effect.”

“It might if she remains as persistent as she’s been,” Hannibal tells him, cracking a smile. “Eventually it will be summer.”

Will turns, and looks at Hannibal the way he does when he’s giving too much away. When all Will can do is see and read every bit of him. It is often overwhelming, Hannibal understands completely, but there is very little he can do about it when Will looks _this_ radiant in the low lighting, so unstressed and calm, so much so that his chest and stomach both clench as he speaks, and while he has managed to enforce a certain amount of control over his limbs, he has completely failed to do so with his face. But of it, Will says nothing. If there are allowances to be given, then staring and wordlessly shouting his affection has got to be one of them. In the few moments that remain before they inevitably part ways, Hannibal imagines the morning, like a child who is giddy and impatient on Christmas Eve. He imagines Will sleep drunk and bed-headed, just as he always is, as he stumbles out of his room and into the kitchen. There, Hannibal will make him coffee, just the way he likes it, tweaked over the months to his own personal tastes. Dark and nutty with a dash of cinnamon. He will cook breakfast for the three of them, as Will gathers wood and lights the fireplace, which will warm their well-insulated cabin for the rest of the day without difficulty.

It seems silly to look forward to something so mundane, and Hannibal would agree, if there wasn’t something about it that so wholeheartedly sparked joy in him.

Will pushes himself away from the counter, and stands upright.

“Thank you.” He tells him, looking down and away. Hannibal nods.

“Goodnight, Will.”

He stares for a moment longer as Will looks in the direction of his bedroom, and his chest clenches as he breathes.

He is beautiful.

He is so painfully beautiful.

And when Will presses his lips to his, sighing warm against his skin, he could have fell from the shock of it.

Will’s lips part wet and soft against his, and Hannibal kisses back, matching his movements. His heart hammers in his chest, his mind is nothing but static. He thinks and feels nothing other than Will, the taste of him and of the whiskey, chocolate and caramel and spicy.

It is exhilarating.

It is nothing that he has felt before.

Everything inside him soars and ignites, and as he grasps Will’s face gently in his hands as though he will break, kissing him deeper, deeper than before, he hums low in his throat at the feeling of it. Will reciprocates in every way, tangling his fingers in Hannibal’s hair, strands of blonde and silver pouring out from between. He fists his sweater in his hand, or spreads his fingers wide across Hannibal’s chest. They slow and part for air, and Will smiles against him as he nuzzles his cheek, kissing him in a trail down to his neck, behind his ear, along his jaw, everywhere where Hannibal can find. They kiss and touch and press together, and finally, with a sigh of pleasure, Will tugs on Hannibal’s sweater, moving them clumsily toward the bedroom.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Hannibal asks him, pulling away.

“ _Yes_.” Will answers breathlessly, before kissing him again.

And who is Hannibal to say no?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you thought in the comments below!
> 
> In case you're interested, the whiskey Hannibal bought for Will is here (just look at the bottle, the bottle is perfect):
> 
> http://whiskey.underthelabel.com/l/363/Dalmore-40-Year-Old-Single-Highland-Malt-Scotch-Whisky
> 
> Because Hannibal is classy AF.
> 
> Thank you again so much for reading. Seriously, if you got this far you are awesome :).


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